


Everlasting light

by sherlockholmesXireneadler



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Italy, Organized Crime, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-21
Updated: 2013-06-05
Packaged: 2017-12-09 02:08:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/768747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlockholmesXireneadler/pseuds/sherlockholmesXireneadler
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock Holmes and Irene think that they destroyed the last of Moriarty's crime web months ago. But his legacy lives on in the form of Sebastian Moran, how will untold secrets fare when the pair are reunited?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Psychotic girl

It was a warm summer's night in London. The sky mixed with thin clouds and the rosy redness that seemed to float above the skyline of the great city. 'Red sky at night, Shepard's delight.' Irene mumbled to herself. She closely watched the busy street below slow down to the seemingly calm tempo of the pleasantly mild night, between her fingers she held the edge of the thin lace curtains; running her red polished nails delicately along the pattern of the material.

In the distance a taxi appeared and came to a halt directly in front of 221B Baker Street. A mischievous smirk grew on her face, she closed the lace curtains; returning to her temporary hiding place.

Irene quickly yet gracefully exited the main living area of the flat, retreating to the consulting detective's bedroom. She wore only his dark purple shirt, matching underwear and her hair in the statement up do with her makeup identical to the first time they met. She lay on his bed; facing the door whilst resting her arm on the pillow.

Soon enough voices could be heard ascending the stairs, two of them she recognised as Sherlock Holmes and John Watson but she was not able to identify who the third man was, a trusted friend or colleague she assumed by their casual conversation and presence in the flat.

'We haven't seen or heard anything since then.' Said Lestrade. 'So you're expecting another crime linked to these.' Said John, Irene listened intently while she waited patiently to be discovered.

'Yes, sadly our hands are tied until we have more clues. Whoever this man is he is clearly very careful to leave little evidence.'

Sherlock had been extremely quiet since he entered the flat, she wondered if he had found her bait.

Sherlock sat in his armchair; focusing, immersed in the few clues the criminal had left him. At first the case he had been assigned had seemed completely simple initially, leaving Sherlock convinced that it would just be another boring, time wasting case, yet there was more to it than what it seemed.

A incredibly expensive diamond had been stolen, worth more than £7 million. It had been somewhat entirely secure in the Victoria and Albert museum of London. Their entrance to the museum was completely obvious to Sherlock (unlike the idiots at Scotland Yard) the air vent on the outside of the building had clearly been tampered with; even if it was carefully replaced the signs of a hasty removal were still noticeable. However the air vent in the room of the diamond was not, only the smashed glass on the floor and the missing diamond were the other clues, the escape was the same route as the entrance.

Something peculiar to his home disturbed Sherlock's thoughts, a single hair pin lay on the floor, his eyebrows knitted together in thought and concern. John noticed 'Sherlock is everything ok?' He did not reply, instead he rose from his seat and began to follow a very familiar scent, was that perfume? 'Sherlock?' John continued sounding more worried.

Sherlock continued along the hallway until he reached his room, the smell of flowers at its strongest he slowly opened the door.

There he found Irene Adler laying on his bed wearing his clothes in what appeared an attempt to invade his personal space.

His solid gaze remained on her whilst she spoke in a confident tone; too low to be heard by John and Lestrade, 'Hello Mr. Holmes. Miss me?' She smiled and stood up from the bed; encircling his neck with her arms in an romantic manner. 'John. It seems we have a guest.' Sherlock said never letting his eyes leave hers.

John walked to the entrance of Sherlock's room 'What are you talk-' He stopped talking when he spotted Sherlock and Irene in what appeared to be an embrace. 'Dr. Watson.' She acknowledged only turning her head to see the priceless look of shock upon his face.

'Irene? But you- your dead.' John said with complete confusion. 'Well obviously not.' Sherlock replied patronisingly gesturing at Irene and how she was clearly alive.

'How?', 'Someone turned up at the last minute and saved me.' She said whilst turning her head slightly sideways and looking into Sherlock's eyes adoringly. 'You?!' Lestrade said out of the blue, whereas he had been previously silent in disbelief.

'Miss Adler, I have no time for your childish games, I have a case to solve.' He said removing her arms from around his neck and returning to the living area. Irene followed ignoring John and Lestrade just as he did, 'Well if you haven't already deduced I'm here to help you with that.' Sherlock raised his eyebrows.

'How would you know about that case, it's not public yet.' Said Lestrade. 'Calm down I'm not the British media.' She said condescendingly. Sherlock smirked with amusement at her remark as she sat on the arm of his chair beside him.

With impeccable timing the landlady Mrs. Hudson entered through the kitchen, 'I heard you boys come in so I made you some tea.' She appeared in the room holding a tray with three cups of tea and wore a look of awe and happiness on her face when she saw Irene perched next to Sherlock. 'Oh, hello dear I didn't know you were here, I'm Mrs. Hudson.' She smiled at Irene. 'Nice to meet you, I'm Irene Adler.' She shook the elderly woman's hand.

Throughout the next couple of minutes the tea was drunk and the conversation consisted of the normal everyday subjects, Irene made an effort to join in; when on the contrary Sherlock stayed silent and totally emotionless, Irene caught him watching her a couple of times but did not comment.

'Well I better get going, I've got a date.' John said positively. 'Me too actually, better get back to the station, I'll keep you posted on the case.' After they left; Mrs. Hudson said 'I'll leave you two alone then.' Then added, 'Nice to meet your girlfriend Sherlock.'

'She's not my girlfriend!' Sherlock spoke with annoyance. Irene chuckled slipping herself into his lap and kissing him playfully on the cheek. Sherlock let out a sigh of irritation, 'So what did you need to tell me about this case?' Irene became more serious now and looked down into her hands. 'I know the criminal.' She said sounding worried, returning her gaze to his face. 'Who?'

She took a breath; speaking as she exhaled. 'Sebastian Moran. Moriarty's apprentice.' She then continued, 'When I was involved with Jim, I never met Sebastian; it was just whispers.' Sherlock listened intently, 'The crimes were not the only reason I came here, I think, he wants to kill you; just as his teacher did, and if he finds I'm alive, I fear he'll kill me too.'

'Thank you, I will not let them kill either of us.' The atmosphere had suddenly became too sentimental for his liking. 'If you don't mind Irene I would like to have a shower.' He gestured for her to remove herself from his lap. Whilst she moved she said 'Don't mind if I join do you?' She smirked slyly.

He ignored her and hastily retreated to his en suite shutting his bedroom door firmly behind him; just to make sure.

It was a few months after Sherlock's hiatus, he had spent that time with Irene, together they disassembled Moriarty's crime web and had defeated what they thought was the last organisation involved in early spring. It was now July and Irene suspected that Sebastian's power would have grown significantly during the time, making it far more noticeable than previously.

Once or if they were successful in ending the last of the crime web, there would most definatly be no more trouble from the recently deceased Jim Moriarty.

Irene would not admit it to herself but until Sebastian Moran was dead she was dependent on Sherlock in a way, she needed his protection, she needed him.

Once Sherlock had finished his shower Irene then had hers. When she returned Irene was surprised to find him laying in his bed; with space left for her, he was on his phone. 'They've found a witness we'll go to Scotland Yard in the morning.' He set the alarm for 6:30 and waited until Irene was laying in bed next to him to turn off the bedside lamp.

This reminded Irene of their days defeating the crime web, the days when they had no choice whether they slept in the same bed or not because it would appear suspicious. But something was different, she just couldn't quite put her finger on it.

'Goodnight Mr. Sherlock Holmes.'

'Goodnight Miss Irene Adler.'

'Sweet dreams.' She whispered.

They both drifted off into a deep sleep.

Sherlock was dreaming. He appeared in a large building with an immensely high ceiling, he looked around the church, he was surrounded by his friends and his small family (Mycroft and their mother) who were all seated in front of him. He turned to look beside him, standing there was John wearing a beaming smile on his face, 'ready?' He said quietly.

Loud music of an orchestra began to fill the church, was that the bridal chorus?! Then as clear as day a figure appeared before him, Irene. She wore a beautiful white wedding dress and an even more stunningly beautiful smile on her face.

Sherlock awoke with a start, he looked at the clock; it was two in the morning. 'Sherlock, are you ok' Irene said sleepily and calmly. He looked down at her, he was holding her tightly around the waist from behind. 'Mhm.' He replied much too quickly. 'You were talking in your sleep.' He did not reply. 'You said 'I do'.'

His eyes widened with shock and without thinking of what she would assume he abruptly removed his arms from around her and turned round to face his back to her. Irene felt his heat leave her body, but she was satisfied. She knew he was dreaming about her.


	2. Stop stop

The alarm went off all of a sudden, Sherlock and Irene arose from their sleep. The strong sunshine seeped through the curtains flowing into the room like a waterfall. Irene let out a soft groan from her throat and leaned over Sherlock to turn off the alarm. 'Good morning.' She smiled at him; almost peacefully; as she got out of bed then retrieved clothing from her suitcase.

Sherlock stared at her for a few moments, thinking how stunning she looked in the morning light, storing this memory of her in his mind palace along with the other numerous accounts he had made unforgettable. He immediately dismissed the sentimental thought (what on earth had gotten into him!?); taking his own clothes from his wardrobe and walking into the bathroom with a stern emotionless look on his face.

She smiled absentmindedly while she dressed; recalling last night's events. She was almost certain she was safe now, only Sebastian Moran remained; meaning their mutual enemy could be destroyed once and for all, finally leaving them be.

Sherlock reappeared from the bathroom wearing a dark blue shirt and trousers. Irene's attire consisted of a white, sleeveless, knee length dress with navy high heels. Her dark hair was down and she wore her statement red lipstick.

Once they entered the living area they found John reading a newspaper and eating breakfast in the kitchen. 'Morning.' John said with a mouthful of toast. 'Good morning, how did the date go?' She asked him. It was unusual for John to be asked these questions, Sherlock did't care at all about his girlfriends or love life, 'Very well thanks, um , listen; just to clarify, are you two together?' Irene chuckled, 'No!' Sherlock stated seriously. 'ok.' John said awkwardly, a laugh died at the back of his throat, he was finding Sherlock's slight embarrassment and childish reaction rather entertaining as did Irene.

Irene put the kettle on and went to sit opposite John on the breakfast table. Sherlock sat on the sofa across the other side of the room on his laptop, abolishing the world around him as he researched this 'Sebastian Moran' man. However hardly any further information had been discovered, if it wasn't for Irene he would have assumed the man never existed.

About half an hour later; the consulting detective, the doctor and the woman exited 221B Baker Street and made their way to New Scotland Yard. The three of them sat silently together in the taxi, watching the rush of London go by; the dull colours of the buildings merging with the pristine bright blue of the summer sky. Irene's nails tapped on the plastic car door; as she was in what seemed to be deep thought.

As soon as the taxi came to a stop she abandoned her trance sweeping out from the vehicle immediately while she left Sherlock and John to pay the driver. She walked slowly up to the doorway almost a stroll as she waited for them to catch up. 

Within moments Sherlock was by her side at a considerably faster pace than her, she struggled to keep up in her high heels but it did not show. 'So this witness, know anything about them?' She said, 'Lewis Fisher. He was a worker at the museum, said he was held at gunpoint and forced to turn off the alarm system, it's dangerous for him to be here.'

'I agree. Judging by his previous actions he is ruthless enough to kill for his safety, and I hardly expect the police to protect him that well.' Together they entered the glass doors of the building, the bright sun reflecting from them as John followed behind.

Eventually after travelling through a series of corridors the group were greeted by a certain Sally Donovan who wore an expression of disgust as she spotted Sherlock. 'Freak is here.' The frizzy haired woman shouted to some unknown party in the collection of offices behind her.

'Who is she?' Sally asked in an irritating tone. Before Irene could introduce herself Sherlock quickly said 'She's with me.' As he pushed past her with his shoulder; walking rather arrogantly. Irene smirked and took his hand; thinking to herself 'well this will make them talk.' Sherlock's reaction however was not so positive, why on earth had she taken his hand? Her sentiment was showing.

Instead of saying anything Sherlock gave her a slightly confused glare, but he did not remove his hand from hers nor did he struggle from her grip, any attempt to escape would just make her more determined, that was just the type of woman she was.

In return Irene moved even closer to him; leaning her head against his shoulder. John however watched them completely perplexed, wasn't it just this morning that Sherlock had insisted that him and the woman were most defiantly not in a relationship?

Once they reached Lestrade's office Irene removed her head and hand from the annoyed Sherlock. The room was simple yet it had some personal touches such as the pictures of his children, the view looked over the opposite skyscraper; a dull and boring office, monotonous to the several others.

'Hello again Irene.' Lestrade smiled before greeting (more so acknowledging) the two other men, she was enjoying the attention, maybe it was time to make Sherlock a bit green-eyed, she smirked astutely. 'Hello Greg, lovely to see you again.' She said as they walked towards his desk, swinging her hips flirtatiously reflecting the tone of her voice.

'The witness.' Sherlock said not as a question but more as a demand, he didn't know why he was becoming so bothered. 'Yes, yes you'll meet him later. So what brings you here.' Greg said looking admirably at Irene who gave him a beaming smile. 'Well detective stories do quite interest me, so I thought I'd tag along.' She said nonchalantly whilst perching on his desk. 'Oh, you like detective stories?' Lestrade said as Sherlock and John watched the pair's conversation with raised eyebrows.

'Yes, and detectives.' Irene replied then enjoyed the enduring silence. Sherlock recognised the phrase immediately, she had said in their first encounter, it hurt a little to see her saying it to someone else, he was left feeling rather vulnerable, but why should he?

The awkward silence was intruded by the despised forensic scientist, Anderson. 'The witness is ready for you to see-' He entered looking at a pile of paperwork he held and cut off his sentence as he saw Irene.

She almost wanted to laugh out loud at his expression; which resembled that of a shocked cartoon character. 'Hello.' Irene spoke seductively breaking yet another silence she had caused. 'Um, hi.' Anderson said looking ridiculously embarrassed and excited.

'Shut up Anderson; you're gawping like an idiot.' Sherlock said with a hint of anger in his voice whilst exiting the room. Irene winked playfully at the blushing man as she followed.

'Well that was unnecessary.' Sherlock said to her. 'And why on earth would it bother you dear?' She smiled, pleased she had gotten a reaction out of the 'heartless' detective. 'It doesn't.' He mumbled trying to convince himself just that, he knew it was a lie. Behind them John was silently chuckling both of them were being preposterously childish.

They reached the room the witness inhabited, he was a thin, blonde man in his late twenties with sharp facial features and a worried look in his eyes, no wonder; the poor man was risking his life coming to the police.

'Morning Lewis.' John said calmly. They introduced themselves and sat opposite Mr. Fisher, the man had already been interviewed but the consulting detective preferred to find his own information.

'We need you to tell us about the man who threatened you.' Sherlock said forwardly, maybe a little to forcefully. 'Y-yes, well there was two of them.' They waited for him to continue. 'The first one, the one who spoke, he was blonde; I didn't see his eyes he was wearing sunglasses. He had an English accent, but not a posh one.'

'What about the second man?' Irene asked. He looked to her, still with fear in his eyes, he swallowed. 'The other man had dark hair, but ther-re was something strange, he kept on itching his arm, like it was a mosquito bite, but I-I thought it was strange because he was itching it too often for it to be from a bug... I think.' The man looked at Sherlock, almost for approval of his help.

Sherlock instantaneously left his seat leaving the room, it was all the information he wanted. Irene and John followed, 'Thank you for your time.' John said reassuringly before leaving.

Lestrade caught them on the way out. 'Find anything new?' He asked. 'One of them had a bite.' Greg sighed disappointedly, 'Is that it?!' Sherlock glared at him, ' I have my theories.'

As he turned around he found Anderson hopelessly flirting with Irene, he had had enough of this. 'So would you like to go out sometime?' Said Anderson. 'Like on a date?' She said innocently. 'Yeah.' He replied smiling like an idiot.

To everyone's surprise Sherlock came from behind Irene snaking his arm around her waist and pulled her tightly against him. 'Her answer is no.' He said sternly removing her from Anderson. God she loved it when he was possessive.

She looked up at him shocked, yet cool and collected, 'Your sentiment is showing.' She whispered in his ear then gave him a peck of a kiss on his jaw and once again rested her head delicately on his shoulder as she enjoyed the feeling of his arm around her waist.

The entire of Scotland Yard watched in awe and astonishment as the couple walked down the corridor. 'Is she his girlfriend?' Sally asked Anderson, 'Well apparently yes.' He said annoyed and half walked; half stormed off.

'Hmph, freakette.' Sally mumbled and laughed quietly at her own joke.


	3. The only one

'Don't tell me you were actually interested in that imbecile.' Sherlock says to Irene as they sit in the taxi back to Baker Street without John; due to the pair's extravagant exit, never mind he would catch up.

She laughed heartily, 'No of course not, who in their right mind would find him attractive.' She smiled at him genuinely. He smiled back saying, 'Then why were you flirting with him?'

'Can't a girl have some fun?' He didn't reply, she added, 'You hardly ever let me have any.' He scowled at her; 'What do you mean?' He sounded confused but he knew exactly what she meant, so did the taxi driver he guessed as he watched the eavesdropping middle aged man chuckle in the mirror. She smirked at him, turning her head to face the window watching the ever bustling Baker Street.

Sherlock payed the driver and they both got out of the taxi. He was just about to retrieve the keys from his pocket when a cheery Mrs. Hudson opened the door for them. 'Irene!' The elderly woman said with delight ushering her inside. Sherlock sighed heavily, was his landlady really going to react like this every time she saw her? Then again Mrs. Hudson did seem quite convinced that Irene was his partner.

The two women chatted happily, Irene liked Mrs. Hudson she assumed that Sherlock's landlady acted as a mother figure to him. He removed his coat and scarf placing them in the cupboard. Just as he began to ascend the stairs he turned around to the sound of Mrs. Hudson saying his name.

'Yes?' He said, she pleasantly replied; 'Well dear I was just wondering how long Irene would be staying with us.' Well this was a difficult question to answer, Sherlock had gathered that the woman's residence would remain at the flat until the crime web was finally defeated. Even though she had not admitted it it was quite obvious that she wasn't only there to aid him in defeating Moran, Irene was there for his protection.

In a way he was pleased she had come to him, but of course he would never think that Irene completely depended on him; she was a strong woman who could take care of herself, nevertheless Sherlock was determined to protect her. Irene would maybe only be expected to stay till that happened, but at the back of his mind he had a feeling that she may have other intentions even if she was not aware of them herself.

'As long as it takes.' He replied running speedily up the stairs before she could ask him another question, she could not find out about the real reasons for Irene's visit; it would worry her to death.

'As long as what takes?' Mrs. Hudson said quizzically to Irene. Oh Sherlock had thrown her into this one.

An hour later John Watson returned to the flat which already looked like a bomb site. 'Couldn't have just waited for me could you.' The doctor caught sight of the living area of 221B, sheets of paper were scattered over the floor accompanied by hundreds of post-stick notes which decorated the wall and mirror above the fireplace.

'Good god!' He said as he entered the room putting the shopping bags in the kitchen. Sat in the middle of the room was Sherlock and Irene, both were on the floor in deep thought, the detective in his usual thinking position; staring at the evidence in front of them and Irene sat cross-legged next to him with the laptop.

Neither of them had spoken to him for a couple of minutes, 'Found anything?' He said. Sherlock replied instantly, 'Mr. Fisher said he didn't think the bite was from a bug he was right if his more detailed description of the men was accurate enough then it was clear that neither of them had been abroad recently to receive a bite which would make them itch that regularly.'

Irene interrupted, 'Therefore the creature must have been imported and handled nothing that lives in England could cause that, a snake, would be our suspected culprit.' John opened his mouth as to begin to speak, 'Got it!' Irene said excitedly, Sherlock turned to her immediately.

'Oxybelis aeneus, otherwise known as the Mexican vine snake.' She began confidently. 'We know of Moriarty's previous South American connections, some of them must have been rebuilt allowing easy trade.' He said.

Irene continued standing up, 'It's extremely thin yet very long.' Sherlock smiled; rising to her height, 'So it could easily fit through the air vent bars without disturbing them.' She ended triumphantly 'And it's venom is not poisonous to humans but can cause severe itching for a short period of time.'

'But how could a snake break through glass, it's fangs wouldn't be strong enough and how could it steal a diamond?!' John said in complete confusion. 'We're working on that.' She said disappointingly sitting down again.

Within moments the noise of Sherlock's mobile rang throughout the flat disturbing the peaceful silence. He retrieved it from his pocket, then answered it. 'Sherlock Holmes.'

Sally replied down the phone her voice much kinder than hours before, 'Its Lewis, he's missing, we think he's been kidnapped.' 'Me and John will be there as soon as possible.' And with that he hung up.

'What about me?' Irene asked irritated. Sherlock replied coldly 'It won't be safe for you. Stay here.' The two men walked down the stairs leaving the woman alone in the flat.

She stood up once again with a grumpy look on her face, 'Well someone's being protective.' She mumbled to herself and sighed as she watched them get into a taxi through the window. Replacing the curtain she entered the bathroom to pour herself a long, relaxing bath, she had a feeling that they wouldn't be back for a while, she might as well make use of the time instead of sulking.

Nearly four hours later they returned 'Thank God your back, I thought I was going to die of boredom.' Irene said, she was curled up in Sherlock's chair; wearing his blue dressing gown and watching the television. She didn't only wear his clothes to get to him, she enjoyed indulging herself in his musky scent (however silly and sentimental it may be).

'So what happened? Enlighten me.' She spoke as an seemingly exhausted John slumped down opposite her on his armchair. 'They haven't found the body, but we've been informed of his death.' From his pocket he extracted a small piece of paper; with fluid curled writing that read quite simply 'Don't bother searching your witness is dead.'

'Well, quite the opposite style to our Jim's isn't it.' She said after she had read the note. 'Evidently, I at least expected a riddle of some kind but apparently the technique never remained in the business.'

'So what are we going to do?' Irene asked. 'Wait.' Said John. 'But what about the dia-.'

'We solved the case, a simple metal contraption was attached to the snake's head with a sharp blade containing a diamond covering strong enough to break through the glass, all that was left for the criminal to do was train the snake to grasp and hold the object in its mouth long enough for it to be retrieved, sadly the snake was not very compatible at first; biting its trainer.'

'H-how?!' She said turning to look at John who just shrugged his shoulders. She smirked at Sherlock, one of the things she loved most about him was his intelligence, his ability to deduce everyone and everything within seconds.

'Hungry then? I'm starving.' Irene said walking into the kitchen. 'Me too.' John yawned stretching his arms above him.

Opening the fridge door was nearly always a mistake when in 221B. Inside she found nothing but a freezer bag filled with three rotting human ears, 'Why three?' She asked, not the usual reaction Sherlock was used to.

'I guess it'll have to be something from the cafe.' Said John. 'Yes, indeed would you mind picking it up John? I'll have a chicken salad.' She said her voice as smooth as silk. 'Um, yes, I'll be back in a minute.' He said; sounding slightly concerned of Irene's possible plans; then swiftly left the living area.

Irene removed herself from the leather armchair, walking over to Sherlock where she stood on her toes to kiss him on the cheek just as she did all them months ago in this very room. 'Well done.' She said. Sherlock looked down at her to find her pupils dilated so much that her eyes were almost completely black.

He stated the obvious, 'Your pupils are dilated.' She smiled at that, they both reminded themselves of past events. 'Would you like to take my pulse?' Said Irene in a low voice her face now dangerously close to his. Instead of replying he delicately took her wrist as he placed two of his fingers on the pulse point and felt the racing beats. They stood frozen for a few moments before Sherlock spoke, 'Elevated.' In response Irene painfully slowly wrapped both her arms around his neck, bringing their faces closer and closer until their lips were just centimetres apart and they stared into each other's eyes with such intensity that the world around them disappeared.

'I'm back, really quick actually we were lucky.' John said loudly as he re entered the building with a collection of carrier bags containing their meals which were retrieved from the cafe below them. Irene reluctantly removed herself from him; tracing her fingertips across his neck until they were completely separated.

A couple of minutes later the group were seated at the kitchen table (with Sherlock's experiments pushed to one side). They ate their dinner mostly in silence whilst the detective and the woman exchanged odd glances. Once again John disturbed them. 'Listen, I need you two to do me a favour.'

'And what's that?' Asked Sherlock. 'Well Mary asked to meet my friends, so... Could you both come on a double date together with me and Mary?' Sherlock almost spat out his drink and Irene chuckled as John queried the pair, 'Except you seem to have missed one crucial detail.' Said Sherlock patronisingly then continued, 'Me and Irene are most defiantly not dating. Why didn't you ask Mike?'

'Because he doesn't have a girlfriend.' John said becoming rather stressful. Sherlock put his hands in front of him in explanation, 'Well neither do I!' Irene laughed at the pair of them quarrelling, 'Well I'm in.' She smirked flirtatiously at Sherlock receiving a cold stare in return.

'Yeah, see.' John gestured to Irene, 'It will only be two hours over a meal.' Sherlock let out an irritated sigh 'Okay if I must.' Irene leaned towards him and for the second time kissed him on the cheek, 'Good boy.' She said condescendingly then picked up their plates and put them near the dishwasher.

As Irene went into Sherlock's bedroom to get changed and ready for bed John smirked at Sherlock, 'It'll hardly be difficult, you act like you're together anyway.' Sherlock scowled 'She may behave that way but I most defiantly do not.'

'Then how would you explain this morning.' John said. Sherlock knew what he meant immediately, the little Anderson encounter earlier, 'Goodnight John.' He said sharply walking to his room.

'Goodnight.' John chuckled, could Sherlock really not see how obvious he was being he thought.

Once Sherlock and Irene were in bed he turned out the lights and closed his eyes, analysing today's events, all these thoughts were cut off when a he felt a sleepy Irene move her head to rest it on his chest and lay her arm across his waist. 'Irene what are you-.'

'Shh.' She whispered nuzzling closer to him and fell into a relaxed, dreamless sleep.


	4. I got mine

Sherlock hardly slept that night. His mind was constantly buzzing with thoughts, trapped in his mind palace until the early hours of the morning. After the minor case had been solved all there was left to do was wait until Moran struck again, Sherlock wasn't the most patient of all people, he needed something to occupy him; a distraction perhaps.

He was sure Irene could think of numerous things to end his boredom, but the man was not interested in sex, he was interested in her. A physical attraction was common; but a mental connection, that was rare.

He was attracted to Irene, he could hardly admit it to himself let alone the woman, he had never been in a situation like this before nor had he ever considered himself anything but asexual. But Irene had changed all that to everyone's surprise.

His subconscious mind had also shocked and confused him to no end, his dream last night was ridiculously unrealistic, although dreams represented his thoughts, concerns and desires. He hardly registered the experience as unpleasant, quite the opposite.

Irene awoke first to find an unconscious Sherlock with his arms firmly secured around her in a possessive manner, his head rested on her shoulder. She squirmed slightly as she regained consciousness causing him to fasten his grip even tighter.

She turned her head slightly to read his expression, he was smiling in his sleep, no wonder dreaming about her once again she thought . She struggled to exit his arms, not that she wanted to; but she was very hungry even after last night's meal.

When she did eventually escape the bed she quietly creeped out the room closing the door silently behind her. It was strange, being in almost a domestic nature with Sherlock Holmes, well it was hardly what normal people would consider ordinary; chasing down a criminal mastermind and all, but the atmosphere was relaxed yet the inevitable sexual tension between them was still there; and stronger than ever.

She closed the bedroom door silently, turning around to find the flat drenched in bright summer sunlight which poured through the uncovered windows causing her to squint as she made her way into the kitchen to find anything decent to snack on, (she wasn't going to look in the fridge again; that was for sure.).

Once Irene's eyes adjusted to the sunlight she searched through a couple of cupboards eventually coming across a loaf of bread and paired it with strawberry jam. She popped the bread into the toaster; and another, she might as well make something for Sherlock, he wasn't on a case, one of the few circumstances where he would eat.

Whilst she waited for their breakfast to cook Irene walked barefoot across the flat to reach Sherlock's desk. She ran her fingers delicately over the violin eventually making their way down to a small drawer.

She looked behind her before returning her gaze to her hand hovering over the handle. 'It wouldn't hurt to take a quick look', She thought to herself and slid it open as quietly and as carefully as she could.

Inside the small drawer was stuffed full of interesting bits and bobs, an small origami flower, various notes and small sheets of paper; one reading 'Beware of the Hound'. And then there was one item that caught her eye, underneath all of this, hidden beneath the clutter was a familiar phone. Her camera phone. She held it in her hand and turned it on, for one reason only. The screen came up 'I AM ---- LOCKED', she typed in the password; 'I AM SHER LOCKED'.

The phone unlocked, it was empty, yet he had kept it. This phone was of no use for information anymore, it had been wiped. The only reason he kept it? Sentiment she thought immediately, she felt her own pulse raise slightly at the shock and delight.

She smiled before replacing the phone in it's rightful place, in Sherlock Holmes's drawer of souvenirs. The toast leaped out of the toaster, making her jump with surprise. 

When Irene re-entered the bedroom she had every intention of waking him up, but to her surprise he was already awake sitting on the centre of the bed. 'Bored.' He muttered.

'Pardon?' She said sprawling herself delicately over the covers near him. 'I said I'm bored.' He spoke up, turning his head round to face her. She looked adoringly at him, for a moment lost in her own world where the only thing that mattered was him; and her.

She sat up to face him; joining his gaze out the window, 'Well I think that I can help you with that.' She smirked.

'Miss Adler. If you have not noticed in the past two days the last thing on my mind is...' He said, she interrupted during his pause, 'Is what Mr. Holmes?'

'Is sex.' He said sharply laying down and turning his back to face her like a stroppy teenager. Irene giggled and lay facing his back. 'And what made you come to the conclusion that that is what I wanted?' She smiled, he only grunted in reply.

'I know what we can do. Tell me a detective story.' Said Irene. Sherlock turned around to this, he hardly ever told anyone of his cases as stories, no one seemed to be that interested, John was usually with him throughout the case and he wouldn't dare burden Mrs Hudson with tales of murders and criminals.

And so that was how their morning went on. He told her stories of the speckled blonde, the geek interpreter and so many more that she couldn't count. She laughed at his witty and sarcastic comments, and when he mentioned Moriarty she went silent. Jim was a dangerous man, one that she had not thought about for a long time, it only brought back bad memories, though without Jim; she would have never met Sherlock Holmes, that was one thing she would thank him for.

Hours later they exited the room together, still in nightwear, to find a rather suspicious and inquisitive John peeking at them from behind his newspaper. 'Good morning Dr. Watson.' Irene said.

'It's one in the afternoon!' John attempted to appear calm but failed miserably, he had yet to conclude his thoughts on what on earth they were up to for all those hours, some of his theories he would rather not think about. 'Yes, I am well aware of that.' Sherlock said emotionlessly. John rolled his eyes returning to his newspaper.

'Well Lestrade called, he just needed you to identify the body from the last case at the morgue.' He said from behind the paper. Any other time he was required to carry out what he thought to be a mere unnecessary job he would have dismissed his participation, yet his boredom forced him to crave what little action and activities he may part take in.

Nevertheless he sighed and retreated back into the bedroom to get dressed.

Some time later Sherlock was joined by Irene to their trip to the morgue.

Her heels tapped loudly on the floor behind him as they walked together to St. Barts. The dreary interior flashed past them as they sped across the dull hallway until they found themselves in another room.

It was reasonably sized, the walls were covered with shelves which were adorned with bottles and jars of various different colours and chemicals. In the middle of the room was an examining table; holding a body covered with a sheet. No wonder that this was Lewis Fisher, poor soul, coming to the police was the worst mistake he ever could have made, though it did benefit them. They could not afford to underestimate Moran's growing power.

Only seconds later a short woman with mousey brown hair tied up into a ponytail emerged from a cupboard. 'Oh, hello Sherlock!' The woman gave him a shy smile, until she spotted Irene that was. 'Molly.' He merely acknowledged her presence, '...and...umm.' She continued.

Irene stepped forward to shake Molly's hand, was it a mistake to let these two meet? Sherlock thought. 'Irene, Irene Adler.' She said coolly with her mask of confidence placed firmly. In reality Irene was feeling rather protective; possibly even just a hint of jealously, very unlike herself indeed.

Sherlock impatiently wandered over to where the body lay, she watched as Molly followed him with her eyes, almost adoringly. 'She's my-.' Sherlock began in means of explanation, 'girlfriend.' Irene finished his sentence (however most defiantly not correctly.) and smiled maybe a little too sweetly at Molly as she moved herself closer to him; their shoulders almost brushing.

Sherlock however seemed to take this quite well, under the circumstances, he continued with his work hardly giving Irene a single glimpse, yet he wanted to per usual. He didn't bother checking Molly either, he could easily deduce her thoughts without seeing her upset facial expression that was attempted to be hid by a smile and flushed skin.

Without wanting to wait any longer Sherlock removed the sheet himself to identify the body, 'Yep, that's him.' He said tediously and slowly circled the table, even though he was certain.

'Oh...well it's nice to meet you Irene. Sherlock didn't tell me he had a girlfriend.' Molly said; ignoring Sherlock's analysis, trying to disguise her distinct annoyance. 'Don't try to hide your emotions Molly, they're blatantly obvious.' Said Sherlock coldly, he couldn't stand to see them mentally fighting over him; it was rather distracting and embarrassing. Though he did feel sympathetic towards Molly, although she was a nice girl and someone he could trust, she could not be compared to Irene, who he had such a different relationship with, one that he could not begin to explain.

The poor woman looked terribly vulnerable and shy whilst surrounded by the consulting detective and the woman. Irene was certain though, Sherlock was her's; even if he would not admit it they both new that she was the only person he had ever had these feelings for, surprisingly Irene likewise she had never been in love, but she would hardly go as far enough as to call what they had at the moment love.

Molly opened her mouth slightly as if to start speaking but no noise came out, she walked off in a huff with bright red cheeks. Sherlock turned to Irene with an expression that read 'Have I done something wrong?' 

'Just. A bit not good.' She replied quietly then took his arm as they exited.


End file.
